


supercut

by dontstraytoofar



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: And angst, F/F, Fluff, but also me trying to get over the s5 finale bc wtf im not ok, this tag needs more fic i love them sm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstraytoofar/pseuds/dontstraytoofar
Summary: “No no no. We’retogether”





	supercut

**Author's Note:**

> anyways anyone else’s heart break when flaca’s voice cracked while saying “maritza” when they were separated? yeah same lmao end my gay life 
> 
> ps.based on lordes "supercut". this fic will most likely have abt 3 chaps as i have more written. enjoy! :)

 

_-_

 

_after_

Flaca likes to think when English and Latin basically became one and stole words from the other, when words were being formed and written language was being invented that when they got to the word ‘together’ they thought of two women in a female prison centuries later.

Flaca likes to think of a lot of things. Like how her heart yearned so heavily for Maritza that she couldn’t even utter “I love you” back. She likes to think about how the handcuffs cutting into her skin right now wouldn’t even hurt if Maritza was smiling at her. Saying something about how if they weren’t currently in jail, this would be some kinky shit.

She likes to think about how Maritza is her soulmate.

She thinks about how she never got to tell her. And how much she hates herself that she didn’t.

 

 

-

 

 

When the dust settled on Maritza’s eyes, Flaca has never felt more _powerless._

Pressed up against that glass, hearing her sob, it was like someone twisting a knife in her chest. Laughing at her inability to do _anything._ She struggled against the guard holding her, grunting with the effort to turn her head around to the other girl’s direction. In the short glimpse she’s able to get, her voice cracks at what she sees.

 “Maritza!?”

 “Fuck! You asshole! My eyes, Flaca I can’t see, I can’t _see!_ ”

Flaca’s tear stained cheek is shoved into the glass, she feels cuffs clamped onto her wrists as she moves her shoulders and hands in an attempt to get free, voice cracking and _breaking_ as she hears Maritza cry. The burn to her skin almost like fire.

 “Let go of me! Don’t hurt her! Hey-“ Flaca is forcefully pushed against the window again, grunting as her hip bone smacks against the wall. She sees in the corner of her eye how Maritza is shoved forward, hands painfully behind her back and eyes closed. The skin around them a searing _red_ as tears fall to her chin.  The taller woman is forced to follow not too far behind as they make their way down the hallway.

 “F-Flaca? Don’t leave-”

(Flaca just wants to _hold_ her, she’s never wanted anything that bad before)

So with one more ounce of strength, she pushes forward so she’s next to Maritza; the guard grunting as she tries to pull her back. “I’m here yeah? To your right baby. I’m not going anywhere”

Maritza nods, squeezing her eyes shut as tears trail down her cheeks.

(That was the moment she almost said it. That was the moment Flaca almost said “I love you” as if she was made to say no other words to the other woman. She wants to rewind time, she wanted to have kissed Maritza in that room on camera. Upload it to the world. Show the universe that _hey. We did it. Crazy right?)_

Instead, her voice cracks dangerously as she calls out Maritza’s name. _Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please._

Instead, she _yearns_ as if her chest physically wanted to crack open, let her heart bleed on the pavement as she’s roughly pulled away and towards the bus.

 “It’s okay. I love you!”           

 _Fuck Maritza,_ Flaca thinks, _fuck I love you too._

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

_before_

 

 

Flaca tells it like this.

Falling for Maritza, it’s kinda like those parts in movies when the big overarching moment is happening, where the audience’s hearts are beating in time with the seconds that tick down. It’s losing your breath then finding it again as Maritza kisses her, it’s Flaca scratching lightly at the hairs on the base of her neck, pulling her closer. Breathing in her stolen breath.

It’s dumb and it’s silly but fuck, it fills her with warmth. Like some poetic shit the world spins in its web of soulmates and first loves and flings.

Flaca tries to explain it, like…the universe told her that she’s the one, ya know? Maritza’s the better half to her whole. It makes sense.

But then Flaca fucks it up. She fucks it up like everything good in her life; because she doesn’t _love_ her, right? And even if she did, how could Maritza ever love her back? She’s just…her. And Maritza’s well, _Maritza._ Like God gave physical form to inner and outer beauty. Sometimes, Maritza reminds her of the sun. And Flaca’s just like, an asteroid or something.

Shit, if the opportunity presented itself, she’d be cool if she burnt up in Maritza’s light.

 

 

-

 

 

 

 “Do you think like, the moon _knows_ its’a moon? Does she even realise?”

Flaca turns to Maritza, they’re both laying on the mattresses outside; wrapped in blankets and the others warmth. Flaca’s against the other woman’s chest, listening to her soft breathing as she furrows her brows at the girl beneath her.

 “You just call the moon a “she”? I don’t think it work like that baby”

Maritza shrugs, making Flaca’s head move slightly. “Why not? Who’s to say there’s not like, a moon goddess or some shit”

 “Oooh. Like that anime? Fuck, what’s it called?”

Maritza frowns, and she’s _adorable._ Flaca just stares up at the other girl, transfixed.

 “Sailor Moon?”

Flaca clicks her fingers in recognition, biting her lip. “That’s it. Although, I don’t think she was a goddess”

She hears Maritza sigh, still staring up at the night sky. Flaca moves closer, a sudden chill overcoming her body from the cool night air. The other girl simply holds tighter to her body, and Flaca has to stop herself from like, blushing or some corny shit as Maritza’s hand holds her at her waist.

 “You’d be the sun goddess. For _sure_ Flaca”

Flaca sits up, looking down to the other woman with a frown. “Wait what? Nuh uh. You’d be the sun. I’d be the moon. That’s like…textbook Flaritza right there”

Maritza laughs, her dimples show, and Flaca falls a little bit more in love.

 “What like, we the classic ‘forbidden romance?’” Maritza teases, and it makes Flaca pause for a moment, as _yeah it kinda is; because I’m in love with you, but you don’t know so we just orbit the other never meeting but sometimes, rarely, we do. And it’s this thing we call an eclipse that’s like, a wonder of the universe that thousands of people see._ Flaca almost chokes on the words. _And shit, I wanna be eclipsed by you._

None of it escapes the taller woman’s mouth though, she simply chuckles along with Maritza. Laying back down on her warm chest. “Yeah, somethin’ like that”

They fall asleep, Flaca’s soft breathing synchronising with Maritza’s. Before she falls, she swears she feels lips against the side of her head, soft words then being spoken. Flaca doesn’t hear what was said, her hand just slips slightly under Maritza’s shirt, her palm warm against the other girl’s skin as she burrows deeper into Maritza’s neck. 

She could live like this. If this is what a good life is like, Flaca never wants it to end.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

When Maritza finds out one of the crackers pushed Flaca up against the bathroom stall for apparently “not speaking English when told to” Daya had to physically hold her back from marching up and letting all 5’5’’ of her give them new, unimproved noses.

 “They _best_ be watching themselves. I know karate”

Flaca snorts, applying contour to Maritza’s cheek bones as the sun beats down. Their little ‘makeovers’ have sparked attention; that and their 100,000 subscribers.

 “Yo, your tiny _culo_ couldn’t do jack Maritza,” Flaca pokes her tongue out in concentration, and Maritza’s eyes dart down; tempted. “But shit…I do love the idea of a personal body guard”

Maritza’s focus changes from Flaca’s lips as she lights up. “We could _totally_ be like, Bonnie and Clyde”

Flaca frowns, pursing her lips. “I think that’s about some murdering siblings. Not like, buddy cop genre”

Maritza pouts, closing her eyes when Flaca asks as she starts on her eyeshadow. She can feel the other woman’s breath soft on her cheek as she leans in, and they’re so _close._ Even with her eyes shut, Maritza feels like leaning in, thinking _fuck it_ and recreating the kiss they shared in the kitchen.

But all too soon, Flaca’s moving back, pursing her lips and making an approving sound. “Damn, we should be doing this for money baby. You look _good_ ”

(Maritza tells herself her stomach flipping is from the prison food, _not_ Flaca calling her baby)

 “Really?” Maritza looks into the mirror Flaca holds up, breathing out a “ _Damn”_ at her reflection. She then looks past the mirror and to Flaca, smiling when they meet gazes as she winks. “Your hands work magic”

If it sounds flirty, Maritza didn’t _mean_ it. Or maybe she did. Maybe she wants to pull the other girl in and hear what her moans sound like or how her lips taste with perfect lipstick applied. Either way, watching Flaca bite her lip and blush the slightest amount has Maritza on this high horse she never wants to get down from.

 “Oh shut up. You’re beautiful without it”

It’s now Maritza’s turn to blush; ducking her head as she finds foundation to distract herself with, mumbling something that sounds a lot like _“No,_ you _are”_ that has Flaca laughing endearingly at her reaction. If no one was the wiser, they don’t act like they don’t have freedom. Both women don’t act as if they’re in jail amongst a prison riot sparked by the death of it’s brightest lights.

They act like they’re in love. Sharing kisses over coffee shop dates or holding hands while walking in the Summer sun.

(The catch? They’re too oblivious and in love to realise just how _in love_ they really are)

 

 

-

 

 

 

Maritza never knew she’d be able to find a safe place in a person. Then she met Flaca, and it was like falling into a warm bubble bath surrounded by your favourite music. Bones relaxing, muscles losing tension; as if nothing bad existed in the world. That’s how she explains it, just…soft. Flaca is _soft._

Which is funny, because when you ask any woman at Litchfield what they think about her, they usually say; _“Oh, Flaca? Hard ass with the tear drop makeup?”_ Which yeah, is accurate to a point. Except they don’t see Flaca like Maritza does. Like right now; bodies pressed together in the warmth of their bunks.

It started when Flaca heard whimpering and soft crying in the darkness of the night; her eyes opened tiredly as she groaned out. Shoving her blanket over her head to block out the sound. “Use a pillow yo. I need my beauty sleep _puta_ ”

 “Flaca?”

(It’s kinda beautiful, how fast the taller woman sits up, a frown on her face and worry in her heart)

 “Maritza? Hey,”

She stands up, taking her blanket with her as she realises where the sounds are coming from. Flaca kneels at the side of the bed, heavy quilt now around her shoulders as she lays a soft hand at Maritza’s forearm. She can feel how her touch makes the younger woman calm down some, body relaxing slightly into the sheets. Maritza’s back is turned to her, shaking softly as sobs wrack her small frame. And Flaca’s heart _breaks_ as she speaks soothingly, moving closer to the crying girl as she draws mindless patterns on her arm.

 “Hey hey, it’s okay,” She then lets her hand run through her hair, Maritza still turned away from her and body curled beneath the blanket. “Can you turn around for me _mija?_ I’m here, okay?”

It takes a moment, where Flaca simply keeps her touch constant and presence reaffirmed. Then Maritza turns over, and Flaca lets a small and heartbroken “Oh baby…” out as she’s met with tear stained cheeks and red eyes. She moves a stray hair from her forehead, the girl beneath her closing her eyes at the touch.

And Flaca wants to hold her, _fuck_ she wants to kiss her and tell her everything’s okay and that she can take the pain if she wants her to. God, she’d take any pain as long as Maritza was okay.

 “Are you okay? What happened?”

Flaca lets her fingers rest at her neck, her touch soft and warm against the chill of Maritza’s skin. But she simply shakes her head to Flaca’s words, silent in the darkness as only the moon illuminates her face softly. Even now, Flaca can’t _breathe_ at the other woman’s beauty.

Noticing how Maritza doesn’t want to talk, Flaca instead focuses on how _cold_ she actually feels. “Can I come in? You’re freezing baby”

Maritza nods, rather quickly, moving to the side of the wall to make room in the cramped space. She’s okay with that though, feeling Flaca’s warmth, her breath and her heart beat so close, it lulls her into this _space;_ into this feeling that reminds her of the warm bubble bath analogy. She watches how Flaca smiles softly, moving into the bunk as she ducks her head from her height. It makes Maritza smile, she’s always loved Flaca’s tallness. It’s funny how a small sliver of light is being cast into her clouded mind just from a small mannerism of the other woman.

Neither talk, partly because Maritza’s chest can’t deal with replaying the nightmare that flashed past her vision, and also partly because with the way Flaca holds her, with the way she pulls their bodies closer and hums some random song in her ear leaves no room for words. Maritza simply nestles deeper into the taller woman’s chest, closing her eyes to the vibration of her sternum and the beating of her heart.

 “It’s okay. I got you”

Flaca whispers it to her, stroking her hair and covering them in blankets; Maritza falls asleep to warmth. To love and safety and Flaca’s breath on her cheek.

Maritza falls, she falls for _her._

 

-

 

 

 

The second time they kiss Maritza has prison food in her hair and Flaca’s 95% sure there’s mashed potato in her eyelashes.

It’s among the food fight, evidently, when Flaca gets caught up in how _beautiful_ Maritza is.

It’s astounding actually, how even connecting like this; it’s as if the words are stuck at each woman’s throats. Scared to be revealed and said into the space between them. So it’s like they settle on trying fervently to tell the other how they feel through touch; through kisses and stolen glances.

That was when Flaca, mid squishing jelly into Maritza’s shocked face, giggled and said: “Damn. You’re fucking beautiful even with food all over you”

It made both women stop short, Flaca wide eyed as she back tracks and stutters. It’s so _unlike_ her and adorable that Maritza really can’t help the fond smile slipping onto her face. “Uh, I-I mean, like, you know. Food don’t stop you from looking cute and shit”

Maritza then let her smile take over her face, watching how Flaca blushed and mumbled something about needing to find corn to throw at Daya. But mid turn of the taller woman trying to escape the situation, Maritza grabbed lightly at her elbow, laughing slightly as Flaca blinked and looked back. Potato sticking to her cheek from the action.

 “You’re cute too Flaca”

The other woman simply rolls her eyes, shaking out her other hand of the gravy that sticks to it. Neither women are even paying attention to the chaos that surrounds them. To the food splattered up the wall, to the cups and trays scattering the floor beneath them. They’re just lost in each other.

 “You’re just saying that-“

The words immediately make Maritza frown, because can’t she see how perfect she is? How _gorgeous_ she is? God, if Maritza could, she’d tell it to Flaca every day.

 “No, I’m not. Hey,” Maritza lets her finger tilt Flaca’s chin up, meeting her eyes and smiling lightly. It doesn’t even feel like they’re not alone; it just feels like its them in their own little bubble. And Maritza is almost drowning in the deep pools of brown that look back at her with a type of vulnerability she hasn’t seen in the taller woman’s gaze since, well, _ever._  

 “You’re like, the most beautiful women I’ve ever met Flaca”

(If Maritza saw tears in the corner of Flaca’s eyes before the other woman leaned in, she doesn’t comment on it. She simply gasps into Flaca’s mouth in surprise, feeling how her lips move against hers and it’s as if the stars aligned or the planets shifted because suddenly Maritza finds it hard to stand. So she lets her hands come up to Flaca’s jawline, holding softly, and she melts as if Flaca was holding a match to her body. Letting her drip and fall and succumb)

And Flaca holds to the front of her uniform, pulling their bodies impossibly closer, as if she was falling too.

 

-

 


End file.
